I saw him in the back room. His frail hands And words didn’t fly, More a float With no signs of sinking. They hung in the ale stained air, Favoured Scots. That harsh clicking drawl Framed fractures Of feelings and … Continue reading →

my grandad’s tweed jacket shaped by the seasons held together, filled by fragments of him a penknife, bone handled the silver inlay, lost the memories of string of cabbages snicked fresh loose tobacco trapped into corners enough for two fills … Continue reading →

After they left you lost your job, the Georgian house your father had left on his deathbed, and the respect of the school. Graffiti appeared on playground walls, names of giants never mentioned before: Cradlesnatcher, Kiddiefiddler. Whore. Market stalls whispered … Continue reading →